Completion (or Lack Thereof)
by ForsakenKalika
Summary: Because I lack the ability to finish anything, it seems, I will be removing certain stories and moving them here. Ratings range from T-M (mostly M, though, because i'm old enough to be your mother). These are NOT up for adoption, however.
1. Liberation (Subtext and Subtleties 1)

I'm notorious for one thing. Okay, for a few things, but here, one in particular. I never finish stories. Yeah, I don't get it either. My phone currently has about 14 incomplete stories. Cute, no? No.

That said, I'm dumping them here until I can get around to them at a later date and will be only focusing on a couple (a Lumione, for one).

Let's start with what I have of Subtext and Subtleties (yes, I'm including what I haven't yet posted)

* * *

Oh hell. Not smut, but definitely something. M because I just really like covering my own ass. Also, I'm American. If I mess something up, let me know, I'll fix it. Promise.

I don't own anything JK Rowling has put her hands on.

* * *

"Liberation"

A long moan is what woke him. A hiss of pain opened his eyes. Struggling to see through the haze of his hangover, Draco's eyes zeroed in on the source of the noise which had interrupted his drunken sleep. A ball of hair in Blaise's bed. 'Wait, what?'

He focused a little harder. Clearly, or clearer-ly (he wasn't good at this sort of thing under such conditions), he could see there was a female somewhere beneath the hair. Topless for sure, as she struggled to untwist the sheets a bit and a nipple had peeped momentarily.

'Nice,' he thought. May as well get a free show after such a rude awakening. Finally, she freed herself enough to bend over the side and rummage for her top, and, as she straightened and pushed her hair out of her face- "Fucking finally!"- he sat up in bed as well.

There, in Blaise's bed, probably nude of the visible curve of skin at her hip was any indication, was a well-shagged and rather annoyed Hermione Granger. She huffed when Draco made no move to remove his eyes from her breasts or his jaw from the floor. Hermione nudged Blaise none too gently with an eloquent, "Oi, fucker," nudging him harder when he only grunted.

"Really, prick? Wake up!" He cracked an eye and she continued, "You forgot to close the curtains and now your roommates are all waking up to my tits on display. Boys," she nodded to the roomful of very alert males watching her breasts move as she searched for her underwear. Goyle pointed them out at the top of the canopy, and she closed her eyes in irritation.

"Really?" At this point, Blaise just grinned and shrugged, helping her into the blouse she had been wearing, a long, conservative white button up. Donning it, and grinning wickedly to herself, she rose from the bed, careful to observe the length of the shirt, not that it was in any danger of rising past her mid-thigh at her height. Luckily, majority of the room was still too dazed to use magic to mess with her, much less do anything but tilt their heads and try to see what she kept hidden as she wiggled into her emerald lace knickers. She laughed to herself, and then groaned as her head throbbed.

Grabbing her bag, which had somehow made its way to the end of the bed, she grabbed a hangover potion and downed it. "Anyone else?" she wiggled the empty vial between two fingers. Draco snapped his hand up and caught the potion she tossed a moment later. "I have enough for everyone. Usually, I'm helping the Gryffs out, but you lot look like pure shite." She finished tossing potions out and making her way to the door in just her shirt and knickers, all the while graceful as a lady with her satchel on her arm.

"Loo?" she asked, turning back to address the room.

"To the right," Draco replied, amused. She winked back and grinned, shooting a finger gun and clicking at him.

"You're a doll, Malfoy. Our secret. Promise. Until breakfast, gentlemen!" She proclaimed to the rest of the room, twirling back around and leaving Blaise behind to deal with his roommates.

"Salazar's ballsack, how the hell did that happen?" Theo Nott demanded both in awe and what sounded, and looked, an awful lot like jealousy. It seemed to be echoed through the room on the rest of his roommates' faces.

'If it walks, talks, and acts like a duck…' the handsome Italian thought to himself before answering with a lecherous, satisfied grin, "Simple. I asked her about Women's Lib."


	2. Subtext and Subtleties 2

Ohhhh you have really done it now. Someone had mentioned wanting more from this particular verse, which is, by the way, not even remotely based in any sort of book or media Canon. I'm obviously American, so this isn't Britpicked or Betad for any sort of authenticity. All I can say is, I was 15 in 1999, and we had way worse conversations than anything which may come up in this burgeoning series.

I don't believe I mentioned it in the first chapter (drabble? Story? Ehhhhh?)- this takes place in the 1999/00 school year. Assume Hogwarts took the rest of 98 and much of 99 to rebuild and revitalize itself (How we love thee, quasi-sentient Scottish boarding school). Adjust character ages appropriately.

Also, no Harry and Ron because Aurors. We'll get to that, I'm sure.

Don't bloody sue me, I'm American and, well, I don't think there really is much more to say about that, yeah.

* * *

Subtext and Subtleties

"Granger!" The brunette in question remained nose-deep in her Ancient Runes text, odd Muggle contraptions still firmly lodged in her ears. Having lost the battle with his patience, he tapped the desk in front of her eyes. 'Finally,' he thought as he rolled his eyes.

"Malfoy? Something you need?" Hermione leaned back in her library chair, enjoying the fullness of the nearly new cushions. 'The renovations were certainly kind to Madam Pince,' she had thought when first seeing the updated library. The blond man before her uncharacteristically squirmed a moment before huffing and dropping into the chair across from her. "A strop? Really? Are you twelve?"

"I don't get it," he said finally, looking at the table intently.

"You don't usually get much, Malfoy. Don't let it bother you." He snorted at her snark.

"Look who suddenly grew a sense of humor with her sex drive," his face may have been stone, but the tone of voice said it all. A part of her was amused, but more, she was confused. Draco Malfoy… was… upset…?

"That's what this is about? Because I shagged your best friend?" Her voice rose a bit, but still just barely remained low enough to be contained to the table. That didn't stop Malfoy from waving his hand frantically and shushing her. "Are we fucking nuns now? Jesus, Malfoy, get a grip!"

They both took a moment and breathed the majority if their sudden tempers out. "Why did you do it?" He could have kicked himself. It wasn't his business, yet here he was sounding all the world like… like a jealous-

"Because I wanted to and he wanted to. It's just sex, Malfoy. It doesn't mean we're suddenly-" her mouth snapped shut. "Are you jealous?" She laughed, low and rich.

His cheeks burned. "No, Granger, despite your obviously deviant imagination, I'm not jealous. Confused, worried enough about my friend to make sure you aren't a gold-digging whore- you're not, thankfully- don't give me that look- oh, fuck, Granger!"

Too late. She had stormed out of the library, tears just beginning to form. Yet again, Draco was a world class heel when it came to one Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hours later, he found her in the Astronomy Tower. "You know," she said sniffling, "I really had fucking hoped you'd hate this tower just enough to stay away." She looked at him. "I'm not a whore, Draco."

His heart dropped into his stomach and he slowly approached her to sit next to her. "I- I know, Granger. It's just-"

"Other women have done that?" Draco nodded in reply. "I'm not a gold-digger, either, Draco."

One again, he nodded. "There was this one girl, Marienne, who- well, she had done her research well on the Zabini's. She figured out how to be invited to one of their summer dos, and-"

"She stole his heart and tried to steal his money, too. Bitch." He was surprised at her vehemence. Grimacing, Hermione stood and offered a hand to him. "Sorry, it's just- well, Blaise and I are friends and- that's fucked up. But yeah, certainly enough Muggles do it, so it isn't unheard of. But really, Draco? Me? I'm a fucking saint! A bloody war hero! The actual fuck do I need someone's vault access for? Do you even know what I'm worth?"

"Wait, what?" He nearly tripped down the stairs in shock.

"What, what?"

"What do you mean, you're friends?"

She was rolling her eyes. Draco could almost feel their rotation in her eye sockets. Hermione sighed behind him. Yup, she had rolled her eyes. That sigh always followed- how the- 'Why do I know this?!'

He held her hand as she descended the last few of the steep steps and she nodded.

"You're an idiot, number one. That s what you choose to pick out from- fine, yes, after I, uh," she paused and stroked her hair awkwardly, "Testified for you, he approached me at The Leaky and we talked about, well, everything. Ended up meeting for coffee shortly thereafter. Now that we're back here, we aren't able to have coffee as much, but we used to almost every day. But yeah, we're just friends. If you see him later, tell him to owl me for coffee later this week, okay?" With the conclusion of what must be the oddest ramble, Hermione walked in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, humming a bit of a tune.

'Hmm, jaunty…' he thought.

* * *

"Oi, Blaise! Forgot to tell you, Granger says to owl her for coffee some time? I didn't know you liked coffee, mate." His confusion only heightened when Blaise doubled over on his bed wheezing laughter.

"Did she- ahahahaha- did she say or do anything else?" Tears leaked from his eyes.

"No, but she was singing a little tune as she walked away." He mimicked what he could remember of it. "Never heard it."

By this time, Blaise was nearly passing out from lack of air. "Coffee- ahahahaha- is code for sex- hhhaaaaaaahahahahaha- the song-" He snorted. "A Muggle song-" There was a pause as he tried to steel himself. "Lady Marmalade!"

Another twenty minutes of riotous laughter followed before Draco finally learned what the song was about. The worst but was that Granger had taken to either whistling or outright humming it in classes. Blaise, the utter bastard he was, would often sing the words under his breath.

'With friends like these, who needs-' his train of thought derailed, killing hundreds, when he realized he had thought of Granger as- His eyes snapped up to see her smiling at him. She winked and turned away, whistling a completely different song and once again, Blaise took to his breathy rendition.

"Let me tell ya 'bout my best friend…"

"I hate you both. Arseholes." The small grin on Draco's face, however, didn't leave for the rest of the day.


	3. Subtext and Subtleties 3

Hey, hi, yeah, I don't have an update schedule, I just write when I feel like it and nitpick over every minute detail until months have gone by and I finally upload in defeat.

A bit of content in this bit, referencing assault of some sort without detail. I tried to keep my personal opinions out of it, but, well, I probably didn't do too well.

Who knows what I'll update or post next? I have roughly 14 stories I pick at, so eventually one has to stick.

Also, a reminder, this Hermione is an adult, legally, mentally, and physically. She may be at a boarding school completing her final year, but she's still an adult, as are many of her peers.

I don't own HP or related properties. I'm just borrowing them for a moment to stroke my own ego.

* * *

"Hey, Ralph!"

"Stop calling me that!" Ginny screamed at the fifth year Ravenclaw rushing around the corner. "Merlin, it's been a month!"

"In all fairness, Gin, you went for distance in the middle of the Nest." Hermione patted her friend's shoulder, stifling her giggles. Ginny turned to go into Potions, pausing at the door. "Someone else will do something just as embarrassing, if not more, and the school will forget all about it."

"Not bloody likely," a classmate of the redhead's remarked as he squeezed past. "I've never seen anyone puke that much."

Ginny turned back to Hermione with a gasp. "You see?" The brunette could only shrug and grimace.

"Oh, Miss Granger! What a pleasure!" The jovial Potions professor greeted the two as he entered the room from the supply cupboard.

"Professor Slughorn. Thank you for your generous invitation. I look forward to it." She smiled brightly at the professor, willing it toward Maximum Charm.

"Ah! Wonderful! I shall see you later tonight, then. If you'll just- yes, thank you." He ushered Ginny inside with an absent, "In you go, Ralph" to which the girl dramatically groaned.

* * *

"You'll see, just give it time," she mocked, watching the curly haired witch twirl on the dance floor yet again.

"What's got your knickers in a twist, then, R-" Blaise cut off at her cold, blue glare. "Radiant? I was going to say radiant."

"That makes no sense, Zabini," she grumbled back. "I'm so tired of that stupid nickname. It's bloody awful!" The man next to her offered her his kerchief and she daintily blew her nose with a honk, shrugging when he didn't want it back.

"People will forget. Just give someone time to-"

"Yeah, Hermione said the same thing." She gave him an appraising side eye. "So… what's up with you two?" Nope, she hadn't imagined it. Blaise had winced.

"We were something, now we're just friends." She made a noncommittal noise back. "It was mutual."

Ginny snorted. "So it wasn't mutual." He laughed back and wrapped an arm around her to lead her to a table.

"Not even a little bit. But," Blaise sighed, "I understand. It was just meant to be a bit of fun."

She looked at him through her lashes and but her lip. "Did you?" she asked. "Have fun?"

He chuckled inwardly at her. So she was curious and testing the waters so to speak, hmm? He tested right back. "Yeah, but it seems like she may want to have... fun with someone else now." Blaise nodded his head toward the witch in question and her dance partner.

"You think?" She asked, following his gaze.

* * *

"He said that?!" Hermione tilted her head back and laughed. "Women's Lib… he doesn't even know what that means!" While her chuckles died down, Draco tried very hard not to think about how her breast grazed his hand on every exhale.

"What- um-" He cleared his throat. "What exactly does it mean?"

Hermione looked at him appraisingly after she calmed, still following his lead around the floor. "You're serious?" Draco nodded. "Okay, well, let's get off the floor and I'll explain it. It's a Muggle concept, so it could take some time." Her date nodded again and led then off the floor. A moment's conversation saw them leaving the Slug Club to their festivities as the two left for fresh air and conversation.

Their departure, however, was not unnoticed.

* * *

Her shoes dangled from one set of fingers while the other curled around his arm. "-a woman's right to fair wages, equal job opportunities, sexual freedom, equal representation under the law, bodily autonomy, and so on."

"You said something about how some femalinists-"

"Feminists," she corrected.

"Feminists burned their brassieres? What did they wear?"

Hermione laughed again. "It was symbolic, Draco."

"Smash the patriarchy, burn a bra? Sounds progressive." He heard her scoff.

"I've done it." How something so simply stated could both astound and slightly arouse him, he couldn't say, but Draco was certainly both.

"You've-" He began looking very intently at her causing her to giggle once more.

"Not while I was wearing it! Oh, Merlin, that's great. Yes, I've participated in a protest wherein we burned our bras. A friend's public school protested when a girl was-" she grimaced. "Well, needless to say, it boiled down to the administration altering the dress code rather than actually admitting there was a deeper issue."

"She was… hurt?"

Hermione nodded and pointed to a spot on the far end of the lake. "Sit with me?" He nodded and she continued talking as they made their way. "The underlying issue was that she had a bit of a reputation when she was younger for being promiscuous. A lot of it was rumour that had gone out of control, but there was some truth."

"The school administration, however, saw her assault differently. It maintained that, if the girls were dressed 'appropriately', it would stop anything else from happening. But, I'm going to tell you, as a woman, it doesn't work like that. Most of the female students and some members of the community felt the same, so we and some of the faculty stood outside the main building in protest, burning bras and such. I was fifteen, I think?"

"You were fifteen, burning your undergarments in rage at a Muggle school?" Draco repeated back almost absently. 'That is oddly hot,' he thought.

Hermione smirked slightly and eyed him. "Mmhmm, it's what I did on summer hols," she replied in a silly little voice. He chuckled, low and throaty, and she shivered.

"Cold?" he asked, moving to give her his cloak, but she shook her head and glanced at him coyly, biting her lip. Draco grinned a bit and thumbed her lip out from between her teeth. "Shouldn't do that," he whispered moving closer.

"Wouldn't have to if you did it for me," Hermione replied back, nudging his nose with hers. He scanned her eyes, half-closed with lust, seeing her certainty. "Do you need a written invitatio-mmph-mmmmm…"

* * *

"Well?" Ginny asked Blaise on the way back inside. The fairy lights made his eyes sparkle and his chocolate complexion seem even richer in their low light. Oddly, he seemed to be smiling. At her.

"I thought it would hurt more, but… I don't know… it just… doesn't." He held his arm out to the spunky Gryffindor and continued back inside, their conversation echoing behind them.

"Say, Ginevra?"

"Yeah, Blaise?"

"Do you like coffee?"

"Funny you should ask, I like my coffee like I like my men."

"And how is that? Oh. Ohhhhh…"


	4. Lesson (a T-rated Dramione)

Here, we switch to something I rated T, entitled "Lesson". Yet another Dramione I had intented to continue.

Not my characters, not my books, don't sue me.

I'm American. It's glaringly obvious. I'm meant to be working on another story, but my muse is fickle and cruel, and forced this oneshot. And it IS a oneshot. No real timeline to follow here, just insert your own idea of what year they're in where all of this is probable.

* * *

**Lesson**

"You will scrub each of these cauldrons, by hand. Only when that task has been completed may you leave. Perhaps menial labour will serve as a reminder that my classroom is not the place for schoolyard squabbling." Satisfied with the defeated set of their shoulders, Snape spun and entered his potions lab with a slam of the heavy oak door.

Hermione turned, surveying the work ahead of her. It was only the third day of classes and already, she had gotten detention. A detention she did not deserve. Brown eyes flickered on annoyance. Taking a breath, she counted in her head, and stepped forward to divide the cauldrons equally amongst her and her detention-mate. Of course she had assumed he would have simply followed her lead or, at the least, gotten started on Snape's detention, but no. Draco Malfoy was lounged, feet on a table, gazing at his nails.

She coughed. Nothing. Not even a twitch. Spinning, Hermione finished dividing, hoping he'd take the hint. Not a movement was heard from him. "Ahem!" Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

It took all her strength not to leap over the tables separating them and wrap her hands around his throat. If she had the flash of such a fantasy at the moment, and enjoyed it immensely, only a Legilimens would know. 'And they'd probably understand,' the brunette snorted to herself.

"Are you ill?" Malfoy's haughty drawl broke through her fantasies. "Probably something you picked up with the Muggles, no doubt. I'll stay right here, away from all that." He waved at the half she had divided, presumably, for him. "You can just leave those there, Mudblood. There's a girl."

Oh, how she wanted to throttle him. "I'm not a dog, you prick!" A thread of delight wove through her when his grey eyes widened at her curse. "Just do your half so I can leave. I've homework to do and you're lowering my intelligence by existing." Hermione turned then, intent on starting her wash water across the room, away from him and his ferrety face.

"Bad summer, Mudblood?" His voice stopped her in her tracks but she didn't turn to look at him. He sounded almost… sincere… and she didn't know why, but she wanted to respond just as seriously.

"It could have been better. Yours?" Hermione picked up her stride and began the water while she searched for a scrub brush which wasn't either so old it was nearly bristle-bare or hadn't been washed properly by a Firstie during their own detention. Without thinking, she grabbed the next best one she could find and set it aside for her detention partner. She was nearly back to her cauldron set when she had realized he still hadn't answered.

Hermione glanced at him. He seemed lost in thought. She left him to it with a mental shrug. They weren't friends by a long shot, if he didn't want to speak with her, whatever.

Three cauldrons in, he answered, "It was long. My summer," he clarified, making eye contact when she raised an eyebrow at him. He seemed, for lack of a better word, off. Different than years previous. Hermione decided if nothing else, she was a Gryffindor. She could have a civil conversation to pass detention. Even with Malfoy. Besides, he seemed like he… wanted to talk.

The only problem, Hermione realized, was that they still didn't know which side he was on. Six years of taunting and outright bullying, sure, but that didn't mean he was inherently evil or with _them_ , regardless of who his father was.

She had to try, though. Something was telling her to try. So she did. "And… your parents?" Watching him carefully, Hermione noticed the subtle shift in his posture, the startle of surprise. "They are... well?" Hermione hadn't much practice with the subtleties of conversation, but she was a quick study.

Draco eyed her curiously as he scrubbed his own cauldron, forgetting his was pretending to be above manual labour. "They are…- why do you ask?" Suspicion coloured his eyes a flinty grey and pursed his lips.

Hermione affected a nonchalant air and shrugged, as though discussing the weather. "I had heard there was an… affliction… making its way through Wizarding Britain. Frankly, Malfoy," she adopted her know-it-all tone and met his eye. "Feelings regarding blood status aside, I would never wish… ill… on my classmates or their families. I am happy they are well."

Hermione waited, knowing that her silence, the supposed finality of her last statement, would be far more effective a tactic. Draco surprised her, however, as she admitted to herself he did often.

"Why was yours- How could it have been better?" Hermione glanced up at him, but he was staring fixedly into another cauldron, scrubbing the same spot repeatedly while gritting his teeth.

"My uncle came to visit," she responded. Hermione had changed out her water and sat down before expanding. "My father's brother. He's… for lack of a better word, he's a total arsehole."

"Why?" He seemed angry with himself for asking, so he amended, "Not that I care, it's just-" Hermione grinned a bit and waved him down.

"I get it. It's fine." She sighed, seeing they were nearly done. Now would be the time to drive her point home. The point she hadn't intended on making, but, ehh, semantics. 'Semantics,' she told herself.

"He's- hmm. Well, so I'm mixed race. Half-black, half-white." Draco nodded, not really caring about that particular confession. His best friend was black, what the hell did that matter?

"He's horribly racist, dislikes people who aren't white. It's never around my dad, but he says things to mum and I when dad isn't around. Jokes which aren't funny, racist songs. Once, he got drunk and told me the white part of me is the only thing that kept him from killing me in my sleep. My parents had a huge row about it before I left, where mum said she didn't want him back in the house and dad tried to defend him." Hermione set down her last cauldron and set to cleaning her station up.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," she heard Draco mutter to himself before he said louder, "For something you have no control over? That's why he hates you?"

Picking up her books and bag, Hermione gave a pointed look at Draco. "I'm used to it. Have a good day, Malfoy." With a nod, she left the stunned Slytherin staring wide-eyed into his final cauldron.


	5. The Seventh 1

Switching gears, we come to the newest of the bunch, The Seventh

* * *

Oh, goodie! More OOC-ness! Yeah, I'm doing it.

Okay, so this came about from random conversations, arguments, songs, quotes, etc I've had, seen, or heard in my 34 years of existence. Characters are only slightly "in character", and in their Seventh Year, thus the title (I'm creative, yes?).

Some drabbles will have dates accompanying, which reference real events, to use as a datestamp for those drabbles.

Sometimes you might feel inclined to review or pm a prompt of some sort. Go for it. Rude or unconstrictive shit might be deleted, or you might be used as fodder and roasted. It depends on my mood. Fair warning, I'm a real asshole (and, yes, American as hell - sorry for any Americanisms which find their way into this. These aren't beta read OR britpicked for authenticity and continuity).

An M rating for these for rampant late-90's teenagerdom (i.e. there may be swearing, sexual content, adult situations, and things which may make you squidgy, including but not limited to conversations or scenes of abuse, self-harm, pregnancy, mental illness, body issues, mild drug use, and rampant stupidity).

 **You have been warned, this won't happen again.**

One last thing: I don't own these characters or any related Harry Potter properties. Leave that to JK Rowling, et al. I'm just borrowing them for a bit and making them dance for my amusement, and hopefully yours.

* * *

Draco ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. Once again, his dorm mate had left their shared common room looking like a disaster. Books littered the tables in front of and next to the couch, alongside sweets wrappers and- his eyes narrowed at the couch.

"Granger!" He yelled. No response, though he could clearly hear her rummaging around in her bedroom. Deciding to brave the unknown, Draco gave up his position at the portrait and made his way to the stairs leading to her room. The door was ajar, he noted.

"Granger!" A thump and muttered cursing was his only reply. "Fucking- bloody Gryffindors leaving their messes…" He grumbled finally making his way up the stairs to address the problem. Not even halfway up them, her door opened completely and she began down the stairs, not even bothering to look where she was going.

"Granger," Draco intoned for what, he hoped, was the final time. Predictably, she jumped and swore, nearly dropping the armload of things she was carrying.

"Jesus, Malfoy!" Her glare could have stripped paint.

"Not quite, but close enough," his answering smirk made her glare even more fiercely.

"If anything, you'd be Lucifer, Malfoy. Excuse me." The petite brunette didn't bother to wait for him to actually move, simply pushed past him. Reaching the bottom, Hermione took one look at the common room then back up at him. "Let me put this in the bathroom and I'll clean the mess." No sooner had the words come out of her mouth and she was off toward her goal. Within five minutes, the shared space was back to normal and she was in the loo.

He parked himself on the couch to begin his Runes assignment only to be disturbed by whatever racket she had put on her weird Muggle 'empty-three' machine. She had tried to explain the charms which allowed it to function, at least mostly, but even the name of the creation was enough to put him off.

Draco was even more dismayed to find he was tapping his foot.

* * *

Hermione hummed along as she carefully worked the dye through strands of hair before wrapping them and carefully pinning them up. As she let it set, she began her makeup.

"Granger!" She jumped again, this time nearly shading an eyebrow to her forehead. 'Thank you, battle reflexes!' she praised, attempting to find morbid humor rather than pain at the memories of the past. Hermione growled and stomped to the door.

"What, Malfoy?" her voice was taut and filled with sweetened venom. Her eyes narrowed at his tall frame leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. He picked at his fingers delicately, as if entirely unbothered by the short, punctuated syllables preceding his possible death.

"Your music, if you can call- what. Is that?" Draco straightened, picking at a hair clip. She slapped his hand and he gave her a wounded look back, shaking it. "Are you-"

"What about my music? Don't like Smashing Pumpkins?" Hermione smiled smugly, crossing back over to the mirror to check the progress of her hair. Seeing it was done, Hermione ran the faucet and rinsed, the washed out deep purple running down the drain in hypnotizing swirls.

"Well, I've never tried, but even so- no, seriously, are you dyeing your hair?" She watched his grey eyes narrow in concentration watching as the rest of the excess colour ran through her soaked curls. She pretended not to notice his gaze travel to her arse as she was bent over the sink or the tongue that subconsciously wet his lips.

"Only some of it. I'm going out tonight, thought it would be fun," she replied, wrapping a black towel around her hair to soak up some of the damp before she used her potions and charms to style it. "And Smashing Pumpkins was the band. This is-" Hermione listened for a moment, "Oh! I got to see them this past summer! Orgy."

She chuckled at his face, alarmed and maybe a little curious. "The band. It's called Orgy. Anyway, there's a concert tonight. Not them, a heavier band, but they're playing in London tonight." Plucking up her shadow brush, she finished her eye makeup, working a deep slate grey into her creases overtop the lighter shimmery heather colour on her lids. The effect was a bit odd with her skin tone, but hopefully her hair would pull the look together.

After a bit of lip chap, she would be set.

"Muggle?" Draco was now fiddling with her mp3 player, looking at the backlit screen of the Diamond Rio with interest. "'Social Enemies'? 'Candyass'? What kind of names are these?" Working Sleakeasy's through her curls, leaving some more defined than others, Hermione had to laugh.

"They get your attention, yeah? 'Social Enemies' is the name of the song. 'Candyass' is the album. Here," she grabbed the device from him and fiddled with the settings. "If you hit the arrows pointing right, it will flip through the songs on the album."

He did. Draco sat, as she finished her primping, flipping through songs and generally figuring out how this 'empty-three' device worked. She would speak at times, explaining the amount of songs available and how to change music styles or bands. He found her playlists and pretended he didn't see the ones named after people they knew.

"Who are you going to see?" Draco finally asked. A wry smirk crossed her face.

"Slipknot. Tonight is the start of their World Domination Tour."

"Oh, doesn't that just sound positively delightful?" he snarked back. Using his newfound proficiency with electronic music machines, he searched through her songs until he found one by this 'Slipknot'. Immediately, a countdown began and his eyes widened only to nearly bulge out of their sockets when heavy distorted guitar began. "Well," he stated loudly over the screaming, "Have… fun."

Draco, also having gotten very good at pretending that evening, acted like he didn't hear her call out behind him, "I'll grab you something while I'm there."

* * *

A/N: Set December 13, 1999 -Slipknot opened their UK leg of the WDT at the London Astoria. Orgy played at the Reading Festival that year in August with a shit-ton of other bands.

I always pictured Hermione as a bit more of an eclectic soul. Maybe she likes all types of music, maybe she enjoys going to live concerts just as much as going to a world-renowned library. Also, she was just in a war. War does some pretty interesting things to people, and I could see someone like Hermione feeling like maybe she could let herself experience life now that it's over. Sometimes, she might even make bad decisions, because pobody is nerfect.

The Diamond Rio was a real device at this time, running on batteries, but I can imagine Hermione might be ingenious enough to figure out how to work around such a tiny piece of electronics to suit her needs. Besides, she has the Weasley clan...


	6. The Seventh 2

Yeah... here's another, the day after. I have a few of these, so I'll be editing and uploading off and on.

I don't own a damn thing.

* * *

"What the actual fuck are you wearing?" There were many things Hermione Granger enjoyed about the mornings after concerts. She reveled in the soreness of her limbs, knowing she gave as well as she got in the Pit. It was strange to think, before 1998, she would have shied away from that sort of thing. Brutalizing each other in time to music? Rubbish. Now, one year into her stint as a decorated war hero, Hermione found she relished in the catharsis of it. The Pit was a weird sort of temporary community. Sure, you were likely to get an errant fist to the side of the head, but if someone fell in the midst of The Wall, almost too many hands were outstretched in aid to lift that person back into the fray. Groping was not tolerated, which is another thing she appreciated.

Hermione shook the memory of her first show from her head, and with it, the satisfaction that the person who had felt up her skirt to her knickers had left moments later escorted by medics. She sent up a silent thanks for Big A, a Pit regular, who had stepped in while she lengthened her spine and legs with a series of small pops. That first good stretch, working out all the lactic acid that had settled in her log-like sleep, was something approaching heavenly. Teeth grasped her lip to quiet the groan of relief threatening to escape knowing it would come out husky and broken. She absolutely loved the raspy after-effects screaming out with the band onstage had left on her voice. It made her sound sultry, and the girlish part of her she had previously locked away before fighting for her literal life wiggled its rear end in affected flirtation.

What didn't she enjoy? Pansy fucking Parkinson's shrill screech at- Hermione grabbed her watch from the nightstand and squinted at the face- 8 in the morning. On a Saturday. 'What the actual fuck indeed?' She concurred.

More shrieking ensued, and what sounded like steps coming up to- "Oh, Hell no!" Hermione grumbled and pulled the sheets back over her head.

"Granger! Get your ass up!" For a petite woman, Pansy could really pound on a door. As she watched the heavy wood shake under the force of one finely manicured Slytherin fist, Hermione considered how effective Pansy would be in the Muggle military as a drill sergeant… or a cop. She could totally be an officer. 'Or do one.' She stifled a giggle and burrowed deeper.

Silence. Hermione knew that she should enjoy the silence, as it were, sending a half a subconscious smile to Depeche Mode while the beat played on in her head, but she was obviously still very tired, and Parkinson wasn't swayed by no reply from inside the room.

Dread began to curl into Hermione's gut as she laid curled under her duvet. Something wicked this way comes, it said. The calm before the storm, it warned. Fucking hide, you stupid bint, it hollered.

A click. Fuck. Hermione watched with one eye open from her blanket-made hidey hole as Pansy sneaked across her carpet hiding something behind her back. There was almost no time to prepare as Pansy went on the offensive, finally launching an irate Crookshanks in the direction of the bed. In her most composed fashion, Hermione positively squealed and tore from under the blanket.

"Fucking really? My cat? You threw my cat at me?" Crooks didn't care. He hissed once at Pansy from his spot on Mount Comforter, and settled down to lick his bits as only a Mountain King does.

"Charming. And damn! Nice legs, Granger!" Hermione snorted and threw some sleep shorts over her bare legs. A look in the mirror had her throwing her hair into a messy ponytail and wiping some eye makeup from it's spot beneath her eyes. "So, I have to ask, where did Draco get that charming shirt he's wearing this morning."

Shit. Pansy was watching her like a hawk. Hermione schooled her face into something which failed miserably at being innocent and unassuming. "Oh, I got it from the show last night."

"Yuh-huh," how she finagled two syllables into sounding like five was astounding. "And?"

"You're remarkably eloquent this morning, ducks." Hopefully the ravenette before her would latch onto the opportunity to gossip about herself and why in Godric's name she was up so early.

"And you're unreasonably shifty. I wonder why that is…" Pansy tapped a nail to her chin and eyed Hermione for a reaction. The Gryffindor simply rolled her eyes and turned to her door to go downstairs.

"Because you're a shameless, meddlesome harpy?" Came from the bottom of the stairs, at which Hermione laughed, jokingly followed by, "Nice shirt, Malfoy. Didn't know you were into Slipknot."

When Pansy came back down, descending the stairs like the queen she envisioned herself to be (and ignoring Hermione's hushed "elbow, wrist, elbow, wrist"), a small breakfast spread had found itself on the low table in front of the sofa. She helped herself to the tea and pulled the marmalade closer.

"So… Anything on tonight?" Pansy hadn't spent the last three months befriending the Gryffindor Golden Girl only to be unable to read the shift in her toffee coloured eyes. Draco, apparently, still hadn't figured it out.

"I highly doubt after losing her voice last night and- are those bruises? Slytherin's sack, woman!" He proceeded to lift the sleeves on Hermione's tee-shirt to her shoulders, completely missing how the brunette blushed and frantically glanced at Pansy, who waved an arm dismissively at him.

"Yes, they're bruises. Concerts can get a bit, um, involved." 'As smooth as one grit sandpaper, Hermione,' she berated herself before plowing forward. "And yes, me and Gin had plans for a club. Wanna go?"

"Absolutely!" Pansy clapped her hands together, while Malfoy replied, "Not."

"What? Why?" both girls cried in shared disappointment, something Draco had sworn he would never experience in his life.

He put Hermione's sleeves back down, seeing the bruises already fading with some well-cast nonverbal, wandless magic (he congratulated himself, of course, because Malfoy's should be praised when they do something of excellence) and sat back. "Because," he raised one finger, "She is already battered enough as it is."

Another finger raised when Hermione opened her mouth, cutting her off, "Ginevra is hardly a sound voice of reason."

Pansy began to sputter and his third finger raised. "And Pansy is, well, she's more likely to get arrested."

"He does have a point, Pans. You are likely to get arrested at a Muggle club. Or just in public at all, really." Pansy glared at Hermione only to soften a bit when she caught the mischievous look on the other girl's face. "Lots of things happen at those places, and I may not be able to protect you, the delicate flowers we both are and all."

"Well, I suppose we just won't go. Who's going to tell Ginny?" With a dejected look at Draco and a quick wink at Hermione, she finished her toast.

"You both suck," a grumble came from Malfoy.

"Here's a thought, Hermimmininnimy! What if we had a big, strong man to go with us?" Both girls looked over at Draco, who stared back mutinously.

"No."

Hermione looked thoughtful at this. "It's okay, Draco. I'm sure Ginny could see if Ernie or Cormac want to go."

Later, Draco would reflect on this conversation and realize Hermione was much more of a Slytherin than she let on, as he watched her dance with Pansy and She-Weasel under flashing lights from his place at the VIP table. He kind of liked it.

* * *

A/N: teehee. Hey Devynn, this one's for you. And yes, Pansy does frequently make fun of Hermione's name or use insults to address her, especially as a way to bait a reaction out of Hermione or just annoy her. You'll see Hermione do the same back, I'm sure.


	7. Untitled AU 1

I had grand dreams involving a reimagining. Did I say dreams? I meant delusions.

What follows doesn't have a title, it simply exists as AU in my files. Clever, no?

* * *

Dumbledore eyed the curtains of the Dursley residence watching the shadows of the family inside move. He knew this time would come, ten years later, but that knowledge did nothing to ease his nerves. All signs pointed toward dark times ahead and Albus just knew in his bones the young boy inside the affluent house on Privet Drive would be at the center of it.

Steeling himself, the elderly wizard adjusted his hat and opened the gate gingerly. Behind him, he heard the pops of apparition as two others joined him.

"Really, Albus, is this necessary?" Minerva chastised next to him. "We've sent all the others letters already. I've already visited the Muggleborns as well!" He laid a hand on her arm, patting her gently, and held the gate for Severus Snape as he joined them.

"Minnie, you know he's-" Albus began, only to be interrupted by Snape's drawl.

"Yes... he's 'The Boy… Who Lived.' He requires… seeing to… as our dear Headmaster believes." The taller man took his time with his words, laying heavy emphasis where sure to make the best point. He was careful, cunning, and not for the first time, Albus grateful the Slytherin Potions Master was on his side. Their side. It was their side.

Minerva huffed and adjusted her robes before stepping into the stoop. She made eye contact with the elder wizard and he just twinkled an eye and made a shooing motion with his hands. She huffed once more and touched the button next to the door, a bell sounding from inside. Her lips twitch in curiosity, but as was her nature, Minerva held her tongue.

"Clever, the Muggles," Albus breathed to himself, overjoyed by the idea of a button-controlled gong with which visitors announced themselves. Voices came closer from inside the home and all three shuffled in place.

"Yes?" A woman answered the door, eyes bright and curious. She ran her sight over the odd visitors finally seeing Severus standing behind the other two on the path. "Sev? Severus Snape? Is that-?"

"Hello, Petunia," he nodded his head, lanky hair moving to hide his eyes. He hadn't wanted to come, to see HER sister, deliver HER son's letter, but now… now he felt like he couldn't leave if he tried. She threw the door open and launched herself at him, babbling in his ear.

"Sev! Oh my gods, it's been ages! I haven't seen you since- er- it's been so long! How have you been? What are you doing with yourself these days? Where the bloody hell have you been? We were so worried! Mum thought you-" She cut off when Severus backed away, hands on her shoulders.

"Pet, I will answer everything, but… you know why we're here?" Once again, the woman looked at the wizard and witch she had pushed between to get to her old friend. She turned and met his gaze evenly, nodding, having finally recognized the other two from a decade before.

"It's time, isn't it?" Without another word, she waved the wizards and witch inside, closing the door behind her. A portly boy came into the foyer, eyeing the strangers, before he shrugged and ran upstairs.

"Vernon?" She called, ushering the three into the sitting room. A larger version of the boy they had just seen was sat in an armchair poring over a puzzle. He stood as they entered, wiping his hands on his pants. "Vernon, love, you remember Severus?" The men greeted each other, grasping hands and nodding. Petunia turned to the other two in question.

"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School-"

"-Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I remember you," Petunia finished, nodding and turned to Minerva. "You, now that we're in the light, I'm certain I remember you as well. You were a teacher of Lil's, right?"

Minerva nodded. "Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor House. It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear. And to meet your husband. If I remember, you'd only just met before the graduation, correct?"

The younger woman blushed and nodded, "Yes, the very same." The large man pressed his lips to Minerva hand, causing her to blush unexpectedly. "I should have warned you about his charm, Professor." She laughed.

"Oh, please, dear, call me Minerva. I could use a bit more charm in my life, I think," she winked at Petunia while motioning her head toward Severus, making her laugh.

"Yes, well, if you're here to deliver Harry's letter, you'll have more than you can handle," she replied. Vernon laughed and nodded.

"The boy is a silver tongued so and so, I will tell you that. So clever and helpful, as well," he praised. "We had an issue this past summer with a tree limb and some damage to the house, and he was right there helping me fix it. Had some great ideas. His grades are about average, but I think we can all agree that those don't mean much in the world." He stood and left the room abruptly, returning with a stack of papers.

Handing them to Albus, who passed them amongst Severus and Minerva, he continued. "His report cards, any disciplinary records, hospital visits, annual gp visits, and the like." He then gave a manila folder over to Albus, clearing his throat. "You'll note there were- what do you call them? Moogle?"

"Muggle, my love. Moogles are from that game the boys like so much," Petunia patted his leg and continued catching up quietly with Severus.

Vernon nodded and continued. "Thank you, Pet. Yes, as I was saying, there has been a concern of Dyslexia, a Muggle learning- well, I don't want to say it's a disability, but many DO admittedly do so. He was tested for it. Nothing invasive and we were present the entire time, but it was why the tests were done which I feel, and I think Petunia would agree, is important."

Minerva leaned forward, picking up her teacup and saucer. "Is this Dys- Dyslexia? Is it common with Muggles?"

Petunia, tuning back in after a very disappointing conversation, and grateful for the distraction, replied, "Actually, yes, common enough. With a good learning plan and the cooperation of the school and the guardians, it's less of a hindrance on the student, which really does wonders for their successes." At Minerva's openly questioning face, she continued.

"I'm sure it sounds like a deadly virus from another perspective, but really, people with Dyslexia often find numbers, letters, whole words, etcetera, shifting around or outright removing themselves while reading or writing. Not all the time, and every person is different, but something like that makes it incredibly difficult to focus and achieve. In Harry's case, he was seeing other things where words should have been. For instance, we have a rule-"

"Schoolwork is done in the kitchen, so the boys can study together and we can answer questions and keep them task-minded," Vernon supplied. The professors nodded in understanding.

"At this time, he was about nine, and review had come for their end of years. His magic had started showing when he was about 5, and I remember thinking Lily had shown hers earlier, but thought maybe he was a late bloomer. It was the normal things, really. He would call a toy to him which was taken away as punishment, or-"

"Actually, he turned my hair a rather fetching shade of indigo once when I had to take his video game away for pranking Duds. He changed it back when I complimented his magic and colour choice," he chuckled, eliciting a giggle from Petunia while the other three shared a glance.

Interesting.

"Back to what I was saying, when I had noticed one day that he was having trouble with his maths review, he broke down and admitted he couldn't see the numbers. At first, I was terrified," she said, clutching a hand to her heart. "He's like a son to us and now he's saying he can't see? So, of course I rip off the poor boy's glasses, broke the bloody things, start looking in his eyes, and nothing seems wrong. Only, now I've scared the poor boy more than his maths review did. I calm down, we breathe for a moment, and he explains that he's seeing pictures where there ought to be numbers."

Opening the folder, Petunia flipped past the first few and pulled out a page. "So, I asked him to draw one for me, and he drew this."

Minerva gasped, the only one to react. Before her lay the crude drawing of a rune. "You're saying he was experiencing accidental magic?" Petunia nodded.

"He had been so stressed out because of the end of years, his magic had manifested this way. My concern is that it sometimes still does." Dumbledore bobbed his head in understanding, and leaned forward to address the couple before him.

"Petunia, Vernon, the staff at Hogwarts would be more than happy to provide young Harry with any needs he may find he has, provided, of course, they are in the pursuit of his well-being and education."

They continued to talk amongst themselves, filling Petunia and Vernon in on the curriculum and making plans for a shopping escort to Diagon Alley.

Upstairs, Dudley sat in his cousin's room. "What d'you think they're talking about?" He ruffled his light brown hair and sucked in his cheeks, making faces at his reflection. His eyes caught Harry's green ones and he sighed turning around to face him. "What's wrong, 'Barry'?"

Harry smiled slightly at Dudley's nickname. All because of his lightning bolt scar, he earned the name Flash. It didn't help that his name rhymed with the superhero's alter ego. Ever since the boys had found Vernon's old comic books in the attic, the name had stuck.

"I dunno, Duds." He played with the edge of his pillowcase idly, picking his words. "They look like those people your mum talks about. The wizards? What if-"

"Harry! Dudley! We've guests for you to meet!" Came Vernon's voice from down the stairs interrupting their moment. Dudley placed his hand on his cousin's shoulder, squeezing slightly.

"You're still my best friend, no matter what, Flash." They shared a smile and joined the adults downstairs.

"We're so proud of you!" His aunt squealed and Harry cringed. It was just boarding school… in Scotland… for wizards and witches… he shook his head at himself. Who was he kidding? He and Dudley had stayed up the night before reading some of the course books, Dudley's favourite being the history of Hogwarts. His cousin seemed even more excited than him, still riding the high of their trip to Diagon Alley, and he wondered if there would be problems in the future.

According to his aunt, she had initially been jealous if her sister, Harry's mother, because she could do magic. It had, she said, taken a bit before she had realized that her sister's ability did not undermine or negate her own. They were simply different abilities. Then, with a laugh, she had divulged that his mother, for the life of her, was absolute rubbish in sports, where Aunt Petunia had excelled as a teen.

While obviously not even in the arena of similar situations, he appreciated the unspoken assurance that his relationship with Dudley wouldn't sour. He knew the boy was lonely. Being a bigger kid, he was often the target for bullies, and other kids picked up on that. He hoped Dudley would take this time and try to put himself out more, now that Harry wasn't going to be there to hide away and read comics with, but he knew his cousin better than that.

'Maybe I could make friends for the both of us,' he thought, boarding the train with a final goodbye to his only remaining family.


	8. Untitled AU 2

Au2

"Ron! Ronnie! Wake upppp!" A snort met the small ginger-haired girl and she shoved her brother again. "The twins said-" Ginny was pitched over the side of his bed with a squawk.

"Owwwwww," She whined, rubbing her behind. "Ronnie…" The boy in question rubbed his bleary eyes and looked at his younger sister, chagrin coloring his freckles a darker shade.

"Gin! Merlin! I'm so sorry, babygirl!" Ron threw his covers back and helped pull her back up onto the comforter. "You okay?" She nodded and sniffled a bit, rubbing her nose. "Okay, sweets, if you're sure. Now what's this about the twins?"

"They said you're leaving later today," she whispered, and his heart dropped. She had been away at her Quidditch Camp most of the summer and hadn't been there when he had received his Hogwarts acceptance. In the blur of events during the week which had passed since she had gotten home, he realized no one had told her.

The two had been nearly inseparable since toddlerhood, barring, of course, Ginny's Torturous Three's wherein Ron was possibly the only four year old to be bald from pulling his hair out. They had always looked out for the other, as Fred had George, Charlie had Bill, and Percy… well, Percy had Percy and he was great with that. 'Pompous git,' he thought. Their parents had divorced shortly after Ginny had gone one and a half. Between the stress of their father's job at the Ministry, his late hours, and the affair Molly was having at her own job while her children were away at school or daycare, their marriage dissolved. While they were on better terms, Arthur and Molly, friendly even, and didn't begrudge the other their choices, the children had suffered. The older boys tended to favor Arthur, having seen the marriage while it was still whole, even in their short lives. They remembered the love Arthur had always shown Molly, even while he was working thirteen hour days, six days a week. They remembered all the birthdays he made sure to attend, often taking a docked pay for the day to do so. They remembered the changes they saw in their mother, how she had started to fall into herself the longer she was alone. How, when she decided to tailor for Gladrags, she slowly began to dress back up, wear makeup again, do her hair. She had smiled more.

Percy had been first to figure it out, his analytical mind seeing to the heart of the matter quickly, and had asked to speak in his bedroom with their father. It had only been ten minutes before the door had slammed open and Arthur was storming out, all tears and anger.

A month later, they had signed the divorce papers and filed for joint custody. While there had been no actual infidelity, Molly had admitted to having a lunch and dinner date with the other person, and was ashamed to admit her feelings for Arthur had changed. When it had come out a few years later that it was not, in fact, another man but a woman, Arthur couldn't hold onto his anger, falling back into the friendship they had shared before marriage and offering her an understanding ear. It had taken years for them to get to where they were now.

"I am, sweets. Hoggy-woggy Hogwarts sent me an owl. Just like Lizi said they would." He stroked her long hair back from her face and sighed when she squeezed him round his middle.

"I'll get mine next year?" She turned her oceanic gaze to him, tears and all. He nodded back and squeezed her in a hug.

"Okay, babygirl, let's get up. Mum and Lizi still sleeping? What time is it anyway?" The two worked on making his bed and tidied up his room a bit before heading down to the kitchen of the townhouse.

"No, mum had a bridal appointment this morning- the bride's pregnant and her belly is showing. Disaaaaaster," she singsonged, skipping stairs every couple of steps to jump on the landing. "Lizi's still here, though, on the patio. It's only half past eight, so mum said she'd be back hopefully by eleven."

The two made their way to the kitchen where Shanty, their elf, had put out a full spread. Loading their plates and thanking the doting kitchen elf, they made their way to the patio with their step-mum.

"Morning, you two!" the small woman greeted. At just under five feet, Lizibeth Jessup was a tiny woman in every way, yet her personality was huge. When she laughed, her whole body shook. When she spoke, everyone stopped to listen. When she loved, she folded everyone into it like a warm blanket. Where Molly was the more domineering, authoritative of the two, Lizi tempered Molly with her soft smiles and inherent sweetness. She had brought light to a very dark time for Molly, and, despite the hardships they faced, the two women had persevered.

"Morning, Lizi," Ron kissed her cheek and sat down followed by Ginny a moment later. "Gin said mum had a bridal emergency?" He ate quietly, waiting while Lizi sipped her tea.

"Mmm, yes, the bride has a bun," she chuckled back. "Seems she had forgotten, when she was fitted a month back, that babies grow." They proceeded to eat, making random conversation about Ginny's camp and the like. "So," their step-mum began, "Hogwarts."

Ginny tensed next to him, clutching her fork a bit tighter. He nodded. "Yeah."

"You nervous? Excited? Scared?"

"All of the above, I guess?" Lizi nodded at his response and stood.

"Well, I know that your sister here will be absolutely devastated if you don't at least keep in contact, so me and your mum got you something." The tiny woman skipped from the room, returning with a large item covered by a sheet. "We decided, now that you're becoming a proper wizard-"

"Have you given it to him yet?" Molly's voice called from inside. She rushed out the door still brushing soot off her robes, mumbling about Bridezillas and birth control potions. Seeing her two youngest children, she smiled and hugged them. "Good morning, you two. Sleep well? Beds made?"

"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

Molly smiled again and sat, patting the seat nearest her for her love. "Bring it over, my peach, let's do this properly." Her partner forewent the chair completely, opting to sit in Molly's lap, and the kids giggled. Molly wiggled her eyebrows at them and stage-whispered, "She had such poor aim."

"Yet, I'm still a keeper," Lizi snarked before kissing a cheek.

"That you are, lovely. Now, before we send the children screaming in terror, I think it's time Ronald received his gift."

A moment later…

"Oh, wicked! An owl! What's it's name?" He asked in his to the tawny owl and striking it's breast, "What's your name?"

"Him, and you tell us," Lizi giggled at his exuberance. She squeezed Molly's thigh under the table and smiled at her wife.

"Pigwidgeon!" Ginny shouted, snapping her fingers. "Just like that stuffed toy you had. He looks just like it! Such a handsome boy, yes," she cooed and the bird preened under her attention, allowing Ginny to let the feathers on his head. He nipped her finger and turned so she could do his back, and she laughed. "A smart boy, too!"

"Pigwidgeon, it is, I guess!" Ronald announced, and addressed the bird once more. "You're going to be sending owls home at least thrice a week, is that okay, Pig?" His owl bobbed its head and trilled.

* * *

Arthur ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, sighing for what felt like the fourth time in five minutes. "Do you see them?" He asked the young man next to him.

Percy scanned the crowd, standing taller than his father by a few inches. He caught sight of strawberry blonde hair, bordering on his own ginger by the door. Raising his hand in a wave and meeting his mother's eyes, he responded to his father. "They've just come in." Arthur nodded and looked back to his other sons.

"Have you gents got everything? Your mum is going to ask, you know." They nodded, but the grins on the twins faces had him furrowing his brows at them.

"Fred, George, those are planning faces. Might I suggest you trade them for your 'Not Going to be Expelled' faces?" Lizibeth's sweet yet sultry voice came from beside him before he could open his mouth. She turned to him, giving him a hug. "Hey, Boss, how's it hangin'?"

"Sugarplum, I'm not sure you actually want to know. How was breakfast? Did he like the gift?" Arthur hugged her back and kissed the fairy-like woman's short hair. They shared the squeeze of a loving family and turned to wait for Molly to catch up with Ron and Ginny in tow. "She looks tired, Liz. Early morning?" He whispered to the woman next to him.

She nodded. "An expectant bride, a shotgun wedding scheduled for tomorrow, and the baby has started to show." Arthur winced in sympathy.

"Big dress?"

"She looks like the bleedin' wedding cake. Actually," Lizi tapped her chin, "The cake might be smaller."

He turned to his sons. "Boys, help your mum. She's had a rough morning." Charlie and Bill took the lead, reaching their mother and helping move trunks and bags around. Lizi turned to help Fred and George check their luggage and Arthur took in the evolution of his family.

"It's illogical, if you think about it too much," Percy commented from his side, and Arthur raised a brow. "Our family. How we work. You and mum don't have to be okay, you don't have to like Lizi, but you do." He seemed to run out of steam, and looked to the ground.

Arthur put an arm around his shoulder. "I think I understand. Maybe. Would you let me try?" Percy nodded, but waved a hand as if to say, 'see, that's what I mean!' Arthur sighed, yet pushed on. "So, if I'm following you, you don't understand how, after everything, your mum, step-mum, and I can all be friendly and share parenting as we do?" His son nodded again.

"Perce, do you know why Arithmancy is sometimes flawed? Why, even though the formulas are correct, the numbers don't work? Don't turn out, so to speak?"

"Because the variables aren't accounted for, or the Arithmancer has a preconceived outcome… or both. They don't account for the fluidity and evolution which occurs as a result of- Oh." Percy raised his eyes to look at his mum and step-mum, the love shining between them almost visible.

"Your mum and I were best friends before we ever dated. Yes, I was angry and hurt, but seeing how my best friend was hurting and scared, how she needed someone to understand that she couldn't hide anymore, well… I always have room in my heart and family for whomever can make her smile like that. Honestly, she never did that for me, and yeah, that hurts a bit, but in the best way." He turned to grasp Percy's shoulders. "Son, people aren't fixed. They're fluid. They grow, change, evolve. You may not always like the changes or outcomes from them, but if you are willing to accept them and grow with them, be fluid, learn, you can overcome anything."

He gasped when Percy gripped him around the shoulders in a tight hug, whispering a "Thanks, dad."

Arthur patted his back, and replied, "Any time you want to talk, I'll listen. You're not alone." He felt Percy stiffen before he finally dissolved into sobs.

"How did you know?" He whimpered.

"You're my son. Gay, straight, doesn't matter. You're my son and I am proud of you." He felt Percy nod and broke away, offering his son a minute to compose himself discreetly. Meeting his ex-wife's eyes, he nodded to her, mouthing, 'He told me.' She stuffed a fist to her mouth and her eyes watered. Beside her, Lizi watched the exchange, and wrapped an arm around her wife in support.

Maybe a quarter of an hour later, the Express rolled into the station. I'm a flurry of hugs and kisses, promises to write and a reminder for the twins from Molly - "Boys, if I hear anything even resembling the word trouble with your names attached, you will be deaf for a week!"

"She'll do it, too," Lizi piped in, getting pinched in the side by Arthur. They climbed one by one into the Express, Ron going last to give his sister, his best friend, one last hug.

"Be good, babygirl. I'll write you after the feast tonight, okay?" She nodded, blubbering into her hands, and he kissed the top of her head. Giving one last hug to his mums and his dad, Ron turned and climbed, every step thudding with the beat of his heart.

'Please don't let this suck.'


	9. Untitled AU U3

AU3

...kzzzzz… "-it's just the beasts under your bed, in your closet, in your head! Exiiiiiiit li-" A hand shot out from beneath a plush black duvet, silencing the alarm clock on the bedside table nearby. With a grunt, the blanket flipped down, and Hermione Granger greeted the morning with a glare at the heavens.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," she groaned, scratching her scalp through her tangled brown and black curls. Turning to see the time, she noted the paper folded next to her clock. "'Sorry, 'Mione, can't see you off, big conference, blah blah blah,'" she mocked with a roll of her amber eyes.

Hermione flipped it open and skimmed the contents, tossing it away a moment later. "Conference, emergency surgery, same fucking thing." She stood from her bed and crossed her room with a huff, scowling at the mirrored vanity her parents had recently bought her as an apology for cancelling their trip that summer to Jamaica due to a conference in which her parents, as successful and innovative reconstructive oral surgeons, were keynote speakers.

'My parents would rather speak to hundreds of strangers than their own daughter, but hey, have a fucking vanity,' anger swirled in her thoughts and she noticed the mirror begin to trembled.

"Breathe…" she told herself, trying to calm down. Hermione registered the sparks now crackling and arcing from curl to curl, relieved to see them slowly dissipating in her reflection. Finally calm, she turned to finish packing and get dressed before heading to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal.

"'Morning, Demar," she greeted the housekeeper, who nodded and continued sweeping the formal dining room she had walked through. Hermione was surprised to see Rene in the kitchen as it had just passed nine in the morning, but mentally shrugged and sent the part-time cook a grateful smile when he handed her half a grapefruit, no sugar.

"Are you excited?" His French accent, despite having lived in Britain for most of his life, had never fully dissipated. Though he was probably about 30 years her senior, with salt and pepper hair and laugh lines, Hermione always had a bit of a harmless crush on Rene. He was attractive enough for sure, but his geniality in addition with the accent is what solidified the sort of schoolgirl/teacher crush she had with him. She was realistic, however, and understood the ramifications.

Hermione, if nothing else, was practical. She understood that it was perfectly natural and normal to find an older authority figure, particularly one who was kind to her when even her own parents barely said two words to her, attractive. She also understood the difference between finding someone attractive and acting in any type of way. She was definitely not a Lolita. Hermione shuddered remembering the book and returned her attention the the conversation.

"I'm not sure. It's a bit new. Mother left a note, so they won't be there to see me off." She chewed her cereal and shifted her eyesight to the marble counter. "I kind of expected that, really."

He took the seat next to her. "What do you mean, Mia?" A corner of her mouth lifted in cynicism.

"They skived off of supply shopping last week. Mother had a commencement speech at Harvard or Yale. One of those." She snorted. "When I received the letter, even, only you and Demar cared to ask questions. They weren't even here when Professor McGonagall came to speak. I just had to… sit there," she spat out. "You should have seen the way she was looking at me when I explained they were away at a lab in Japan trying out a new technique."

A sob came out unexpectedly and Rene shuffled her into his arms quickly to let her cry out her heartbreak. He gave her a moment or two before he pulled back a bit to wipe her cheeks. "Maybe you could make friends there." She scoffed and Rene continued, "I'm serious, Mia. You always felt left out and now we know why, because you're so special. Maybe being around other people who can do the things you can do will be good."

He felt her shoulders twitch and let her go, allowing her to move away and into her own space. She had always been that way, reserved, rarely giving into her emotions in front of others. He supposed the constant absence of her parents and the isolation of her classmates would do that, but it still hurt to see such a bright young woman with such old, jaded eyes.

"Well, finish your breakfast and Demar and I will see you off. King's Cross, was it?" He clapped and stood, finishing the cleaning he was giving the kitchen.

Hermione nodded and chewed thoughtfully while pondering what was to come of her.

"Do you have everything you need?" Rene asked for the fourth time since arriving. Hermione nodded, her brown and black-streaked curls bouncing.

"Yes, Rene."

"And you'll write?" Again, she nodded and answered affirmatively. "Don't let anyone tell you-"

"Rene, I-" she broke off from the start of an annoyed rant and took a breath. "I will try. Now, I've got to get inside to catch the train." He and Demar both hugged their small charge, the older woman sniffling and whispering words of encouragement.

"Mija, I know is hard, but we will be here. For you." Hermione tightly hugged the housekeeper again before leaning down to pick up her bags and board, the latter strapped to her duffle bag for safety. One last farewell and promise to write saw her striding across the walk to the doors.

"9 and ? There is no-" Hermione had been walking back and forth between the two platforms for what felt like ages, before a voice came from behind her.

"Looking for the Hogwarts platform?" Hermione turned, seeing an elderly woman and boy about her age. The woman smiled comfortingly and the boy stepped forward, holding out a hand.

"Longbottom. Neville Longbottom. This is my grandmother-"

"Augusta," the woman held her hand out, shaking Hermione's.

"Erm… Hermione. Hermione Granger. And yes," she replied, stepping back, uncomfortable with the friendliness of the two. "I'm attending Hogwarts. Do you-"

"Oh, dear! They never tell the Muggle-born lot how to get through to the platform. Oh well, nothing for it. Neville, here, will demonstrate." With a flourish, the buck-toothed boy bowed, and upon straightening, ran straight toward the wall between platforms.

Hermione cried out, but rather than hitting the wall, Neville passed right through. 'Huh, magic. That's right.' Augusta chuckled endearingly at Hermione's confusion.

"Okay, my dear. The trick is to have a running start and go straight through. You try, and I'll be right behind you."

Shrugging mentally, Hermione straightened her shoulders and backed her luggage trolley up before running straight toward the wall. She clenched her eyes shut tightly, bracing for impact, but it never came. Rather, her ears picked up the chatter of people.

'Great, I ran straight into the wall, knocked myself out, and now I'm hallucinating,' she thought. Her eyes opened and she gasped. It was gorgeous! Arched ceilings carried the voices of excited kids and parents milling about the marble floors.

A nudge from behind had her stepping out of the way. "Oh! Sorry, dear." Augusta placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and walked the young lady over to her grandson. "It can be quite a sight at first, yes? If you think this is lovely, you're going to adore your school. Oh! There's the train!"

With well wishes for both children, the older woman shooed them off toward the train. Hermione just hoped she would love it as much as Augusta had said.

"'It is the unknown that excites the ardor of scholars, who, in the known alone, would shrivel up with boredom'," she murmured to herself before climbing the steps. One thing was certain, bored she would not be.

footnote* quote by Wallace Stevens.


End file.
